Chapter Fifty-Four: Turning the Table

Casualties are an inevitable part of military operations, especially when facing an enemy whose methods of attack are completely unknown and for which there is no means of defense. Qin Le had fought in wars for many years and had long grown accustomed to the loss of comrades in battle.

Yet after so many years, to witness the death of a fellow soldier again stirred a rage in his heart that he could not suppress.

Qin Le turned to the King of Dawn and said, “Your Majesty, the situation is slipping beyond our control. To prevent matters from worsening, Xuanlu requires your full cooperation.”

The King of Dawn nodded gravely. “Of course. This should have been the Kingdom of Dawn’s responsibility in the first place. Please, my lord, speak your mind. Though I am old, I can still lift my sword.”

What had happened today made the King realize that the disaster of years past had never truly ended. The late king had failed to eradicate those creatures; instead, they had burrowed deeper, hiding so thoroughly that their roots had taken hold in the capital for all these years, only now being discovered.

Cultists, ghouls, imitators, and even the corpse locust tree that had troubled empires—these threats had pushed the already beleaguered kingdom to the brink of the abyss. The slightest misstep would doom the Kingdom of Dawn to history, remembered only as a trivial legend centuries hence.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Qin Le inclined his head, then turned his gaze to the city map on the table, pointing to the area encircled in red.

“The only thing we can confirm is that the corpse locust tree is somewhere within this perimeter—a zone with a radius of about 3.2 kilometers. It’s impossible to conduct a thorough search under the threat of its psychic attacks, so Xuanlu must clear this entire section.”

“Clear it?” The King was puzzled. “How does my lord propose to clear such a large expanse of ruins?”

Though the king couldn’t grasp exactly what a radius of 3.2 kilometers meant, the crude map provided a rough sense of scale. The area was roughly the size of three royal palaces, the largest residential district for commoners in the capital—clearing it in a short time was clearly impossible.

Unless, of course, one used a weapon of mass destruction to level the entire sector.

“To clear the area is actually quite simple,” Qin Le replied. “At most, five volleys of artillery would suffice. But this would utterly destroy the streets, drainage, and the few intact buildings. Thus, we require your permission.”

Xuanlu hadn’t been spreading rumors these last days just for show; they had already transported vast stores of munitions into the palace. With the artillery brought through the portal, they could begin shelling the capital at a moment’s notice.

The slums had already been evacuated; now there was nothing to hinder a full-scale bombardment. Once the ruins and buildings were gone, the enemy would be exposed to a relentless hail of artillery.

“Sir! Emergency alerts are coming in from all districts of the capital!”

“Among the civilians flooding out of the slums are ghouls. The Hunters’ Guild has been attacked by unknown enemies; the Cathedral of the Holy Light has been destroyed!”

“It seems the enemy is upending the table,” Qin Le raised an eyebrow, then ordered, “Ignore the other areas for now. Artillery, prepare at once—give me a clean sweep of the slums first. Once we’ve dealt with what’s inside, we can play their game at our leisure.”

For now, Xuanlu didn’t know what the enemy’s true aim was, but one thing was clear—the enemy needed the capital. It was highly likely some ritual was underway.

Since they’d chosen to overturn the table, Xuanlu would overturn the very floor if necessary—even if it meant razing the city.

...

Outside the palace, on the vast plaza, fifty Model 211 cannons stood in a row, their cold, black muzzles aimed at the sky.

The artillery commander raised his flag and shouted, “Order received! Full battery, fire! Target: Object Six, sight elevation seventeen, high-explosive shells, saturation bombardment!”

The crews rapidly adjusted the guns’ bearings and angles per the command.

“Ready—fire!”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

All the cannons roared as one, a thunderous cacophony. Countless shells arced through the air, crossing thousands of meters in an instant.

...

Amid the ruins of the slums, all vanguard units began to withdraw as ordered.

Just outside the devastation, Irene’s expression was grave as she witnessed the scene. “It seems the rumors about the corpse locust tree are true.”

Even these black-haired humans, wielders of the power to destroy such abominations, were retreating. Clearly, things had spiraled out of everyone’s control.

The only forces capable of intervening now were the Empire, the Church, and the headquarters of the Hunters’ Guild—but their main armies were either in the Abyss or deep within the imperial heartlands, far from the Kingdom of Dawn.

By the time they responded, the capital would already be overrun with the roots of the corpse locust tree, transformed into a nest of monsters. It had to be destroyed before it matured!

And the only thing in the capital capable of destroying such a being was the Sword of Dawn—but only the King was allowed to wield it. The old man would never let anyone else use it.

A wild idea flashed through Irene’s mind: perhaps she could threaten her teacher with the fate of the kingdom to gain his support.

Boom!

Suddenly, a tremendous roar erupted behind her. Irene’s ears rang as she whipped around. “What was that?”

The sight behind her left her stunned: beautiful blossoms—flowers of flame—were blooming in the ruins, growing ever outward.

Visible shockwaves rippled through the air, and a mighty wind slammed into her.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Dark shapes fell from the sky; flames soared higher; the deafening barrage rang out across the capital, echoing through the heavens.

All across the city, the chaotic crowds halted in unison, staring blankly at the sky as the thunderous bombardment continued. In every eye there was shock and terror.

The ground beneath their feet trembled as if their own bodies quivered, and for a moment, all other disasters seemed to fall silent.

It was the wrath of the gods, divine punishment raining down to chastise the guilty.

Shell after shell fell upon the ruins, each explosion sending up a fresh bloom of fire, only to be extinguished. Houses, shattered; stone, reduced to powder; the earth itself turned to scorched blackness.

For a full hour the bombardment raged, until the ruins vanished, leaving only smoldering black earth and flames.

At the center of the blaze, a twisted, chaotic silhouette writhed—something loathsome, constantly contorting.

It was a tree with a human face; its bark withered and wrinkled like the skin of an old man, its tangled branches hung with corpses.

The tree was crawling outward in a grotesque fashion, dragging behind clusters of white, boil-like sacs. Sensing the cessation of the strange attack, the face upon its trunk twisted into a bizarre smile.

Suddenly, black dots appeared in the sky—helicopters hovering at their operational ceiling.

“Target acquired. Beginning artillery fire adjustment.”

Flares streaked down, red as burning meteors.

Moments later, another volley of shells whistled in from afar. This time, the shells exploded in midair rather than on the ground.

White flames—pure as holy fire—poured through the sky, raining down upon the corpse locust tree.

Where the flames touched its bark, pale blossoms bloomed on the withered branches.

Its tough skin was seared through; the strange fire burrowed into its core, burning ceaselessly, healing useless in the face of the inferno raging within.

“White phosphorus shells have successfully burned through the target. Effective against abominations, but unable to destroy them. Initiating Phase Two: dispersing high-concentration paraquat.”

“Deploy mithril powder.”

“Deploy solid-state napalm.”

A shrill, mournful scream tore through the sky—never before had anyone heard the corpse locust tree cry out so loudly.